


Home is Someone Who Cares

by ErinisMagic



Series: Teenage Dadvid!AU [3]
Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Sickfic, Teenage Dadvid AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 10:49:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12555788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinisMagic/pseuds/ErinisMagic
Summary: Max is a difficult child, and everyone knows it. Gwen can't imagine how much worse he'll be when he's sick. Still, there's no way she's leaving David to take care of him alone.





	Home is Someone Who Cares

**Author's Note:**

> As always, based off of [directium](http://directium.tumblr.com)'s fabulous [AU](http://directium.tumblr.com/tagged/Teenage-Dadvid-AU)!

Gwen didn't notice anything wrong when she sat down at her desk for her second-period math class. Well, she did notice that David wasn't there yet, but she didn't really think anything of it. David usually got there before her, but she wasn't worried that he hadn't this time. If anything, she was looking forward to teasing him about it.

The worry didn't start until the class did. The teacher started going through attendance, and David still wasn't there.

Gwen frowned at David's empty desk. It wasn't like him to be late. Pulling out her phone—making sure to keep it hidden under the desk—she tried to remember if David had been in school at all today. She hadn't seen him by his locker that morning, or in the library, or even once in the halls.

 _hey where r u_ , she texted, determined to find out what was going on. _ur never late what gives?_

It took a few minutes before David got back to her. _I stayed home today._

Gwen's eyebrows drew together as she read his text. David hadn't missed a day of school in the year she had known him; she didn't think he'd ever missed a day of school in his life. _everything ok?_

_Max is sick._

Well shit. That wasn't good at all. She'd seen David the last time Max was sick; the poor guy had looked worse than the kid. _is it bad?_

_Just a cold, but he is running a bit of a fever._

Gwen bit her lip. _do u need anything?_ She could run to the store for him once school let out.

 _No, I think we're good._ Then, a few seconds later, _Thanks, though._

_u sure?_

_Yeah, don't worry about it,_ quickly followed by, _Shouldn't you be in class right now?_

Gwen rolled her eyes; apparently David's parental instincts weren't limited to just Max. _who says im not?_

_Gwen! Stop texting me and pay attention!_

_make me,_ she sent with a mischievous smirk. She looked up at the board, which she found covered in problems and formulas that made no sense. Then again, they never taught anything in this class that made sense to her. The teacher's back was to the class, though; she wouldn't have to worry about getting caught with her phone out.

_I'm not replying anymore._

_you say, replying_

_…. shut up._

Gwen bit back a laugh, glancing up to make sure she still hadn't been noticed. _fine fine i'm turning my phone off. happy?_ She had no intention of actually doing that, but what David didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

_Yes._

Gwen slid her phone back into her pocket, turning her eyes—but not her attention—to the incomprehensible jumble of numbers on the board. No matter what David said, she knew he could use all the help he could get taking care of Max. The kid was difficult in the best of times, she could only imagine how much trouble he'd be when he was sick.

She'd go over there, she decided, once school was done; there was no way she was leaving David to face the horrors of a sick Max alone. He'd probably refuse anything she bought him, but there was no way he could say no to her company.

***

Gwen rang the bell, quickly stuffing her hand back in her pocket as an icy wind battered against her. She tapped her foot as she waited in an attempt to get some feeling back into her toes. As the seconds ticked into minutes, she began to wonder why it was taking him so long to answer his damn door. Just as she was contemplating ringing again, she hear footsteps approaching from inside.

“Gwen!” David exclaimed, surprised, as he opened the door.

“Hey,” she greeted with a small smile. It was a little weird to see David still in his pajamas at three o'clock in the afternoon on a school day. Then again, if she were the one who had to deal with a sick Max all day, she wouldn't want to get dressed either.

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to help out, obviously,” she said, brushing past David into the house. It was a relief to get in out of the cold, and she wasted no time in slipping out of her heavy winter gear. “Max getting to you yet?”

“He could be worse,” David said hesitantly, which was David-speak for “he's being an absolute terror but I love him too much to admit it.”

Gwen smirked, toeing off her shoes. “That's what I thought. So where is the little asshole?”

David started moving down the hall, nodding for Gwen to follow.

Max was curled up in the middle of the couch in the family room, completely buried under a mound of blankets. From what she could tell, he was wearing one of David's old hoodies, cuddling the bear David had gotten him for his last birthday. He squinted up at them as they entered the room, clearly annoyed about something and sniffling pathetically.

“Hey, li'l monster,” David called softly, “look who came to visit.”

“Hey, Max,” Gwen said, meeting Max's pout with a smile. “How're you feeling?”

“Icky,” Max whined. David sat down next to him on the couch, and the little boy immediately climbed into his lap. David pulled him close, wrapping him up a little tighter in the blanket. Gwen sat down on the other end of the couch. Some kids' show she couldn't identify was playing on the TV, not that Max seemed to be watching it; he was content to just sit around and do nothing as long as his dad was paying attention to him.

Gwen smiled as she watched David fuss over his kid. It was always cute to see him in dad-mode. It seemed to come so naturally to him, sometimes she wondered how he did it—he was always quick to assure her that she was great with Max, but really, she was nowhere near as good as him. It was like he was born to be a father.

“Yeah,” she said sympathetically. “Dad says your not feeling too good today.”

Max shook his head, cuddling up as close to David as he could.

“Poor thing,” she cooed, reaching over to rub his back. To David, she said, “How's he doing?”

“Still not great, but he is getting better.” He put his hand on Max's forehead, checking his temperature with a slight frown. “Last I checked, his fever was down to about 99, which is an improvement at least.”

“Did he fight you on the medicine?”

“Only a little.” Gwen shot him a skeptical look, and he relented, “Okay. Maybe a little more than a little. But he took it in the end.”

“Of course he did; you wouldn't let him get away with not.” The few times she had ever seen David be actually strict with Max were when it was a matter of the child's well-being. Whether it was finishing all of the veggies on his plate or actually going to bed at bedtime, David booked no room for argument.

David shrugged somewhat sheepishly. “He needs it.”

Gwen smiled softly and shook her head, resting her eyes on the small boy curled up in David's lap. He still looked pretty sick, but it felt good to know that he was being taken care of—not that she'd ever doubted it. While it was true that David's paternal instincts ran as deep as a canyon, she'd be lying if she said she didn't feel just as protective of the kid.

“Did I miss anything important in pre-calc?” David asked, interrupting her musings.

Gwen laughed incredulously. “How should I know? You know I have no idea what's going on in that class.

David opened his mouth to reply but was cut off. “Dad,” Max whimpered, thumping his head against David's chest.

“What's up, monster?” he asked, giving Max's hair a ruffle. “Need something?”

Max twitched his head out from under David's hand with a pout. “'m hungry.”

“Okay, we can get you a snack. We have some popsicles in the freezer, you want one?”

Max nodded, looking up at David with big pleading eyes.

“Alright,” David said, moving to slide Max off his lap so he could stand up.

“No,” he whined, clutching David's shirt to stop him from moving away. He cuddled up closer and flattened himself against David, tucking his head under his dad's chin.

David sighed. This was the fourth time today Max had done this, and he knew that no matter what he did, the kid would be unhappy—if he stayed, Max would be mad that he didn't get what he wanted; if he got up, Max would be mad that he left. “Max, if you want a popsicle, you gotta let me up,” he tried to reason. He had to stop himself from rolling his eyes at himself. Yeah, reason with a three year old, that'll turn out well.

Max whined again in frustration, tightening his grip. David pinched the bridge of his nose, preparing himself for Max's inevitable mini-tantrum when he got up.

On the other end of the couch, Gwen chuckled. “I'll get it,” she said as she stood up. After all, she was here to help.

“You're an actual saint,” David said to her as she left the room.

“I know, I know,” she called back from the kitchen, “I'm awesome.”

Gwen pulled open the freezer door, scanning the shelves until she found the right box. “What flavor does he want?”

David glanced down at Max, who didn't look like he had been listening. “What kind of popsicle do you want?”

“Red,” he mumbled into David's chest.

“Cherry, if you can find one,” David relayed to Gwen.

Sifting through the box, Gwen found one that looked red through the wrapper, though it was hard to be certain. She brought it back into the family room and handed it to Max. “I think this one's cherry,” she told him as he took it.

He had a bit of a hard time holding onto it with his sleeves drooping over his hands, so David rolled them back for him, to make it a little easier. Max struggled to get the wrapper open for a moment before Gwen reached out to help him.

“What to you say, Max?” David nudged.

“Thanks, Gwen,” he mumbled around the popsicle in his mouth.

“No problem, kiddo,” she said, sitting back down.

To David's relief, Max didn't make the slightest mess while he ate. When he was finished, rather than asking Gwen to get up again, David dripped the trash on the end table to throw away later.

“Did I miss anything interesting today?”

“Eh, not really. A couple of freshmen thought they were cool and tried to start a food fight at lunch, and I'm sure you can guess how well that turned out.”

“Oh, geez.”

Gwen laughed. “It was actually kinda funny. When they came in, they were giving each other all these weird looks and nods and shit, like—”

“Gwen!” David broke in. “ _Language._ ”

“Oh, uh, right. Sorry. Max, don't repeat that. Anyway, they were acting like hey had this super cool, top-secret plan or something, and they were being _so_ obvious about it. So about halfway through lunch, this one kid gets up and is like, 'FOOD FIGHT!' y'know, like in all those bad movies and stuff? And then all of his friends start, just, flinging food all over the place, and you can tell they built it up in their heads that the second they did this everyone would just go ape-shi—” a glare from David froze her tongue. “...well, you know. So we're just sitting there, like, are these guys serious? And they're just throwing food all over the place. And when they realized no one else was going for it, it was soooo awkward! It got super quiet, and everyone was staring at them, and they were just kinda... standing there.”

David chuckled. “Sounds like a train wreck.”

“Daddy never lets me play with my food,” Max said, sounding almost annoyed.

“Yeah, well, these kids weren't allowed to play with theirs, either,” Gwen told him. “They all got in big trouble.”

“How big?”

“Real big.” Gwen glanced at her phone, surprised to find that it was almost 4:30. She looked up at David. “You're not going to put him down for his nap?”

“He's been napping on and off all day,” David said with a shrug. “I figure I'll just let him do his own thing for today.”

“You sure that's not going to blow up in your face?”

“Oh, he'll be asleep soon enough—right, bud? Feeling a little sleepy?”

Max gave David a half-hearted glare, shaking his head, but a father knows his son. About an hour later, Max was dozing lightly.

David, the huge nerd, picked up a book from the end table. Gwen was thoroughly absorbed in her phone, actively participating in a gossip chain with some of her classmates and the two of them were content to sit in silence for a while.

It was some time before David spoke up. “Are you going to stay for dinner?”

“That depends.”

“On?”

“What you're making.” David was a really good cook. They had a standing date for Friday nights at his house, where they would get together and get experimental in the kitchen. They weren't always successful, but it was always fun.

David laughed. “Nothing that impressive, I assure you.”

“Ugh, you're killing me here, David,” she joked. “Fine. For you, I'll stay.”

David seemed almost relieved to hear that. “Awesome. I'm going to go get started cooking; can you take him?”

Gwen raised an eyebrow. “He's asleep, David. What does he need to be held for?”

David was hesitant. “It's just... what if he wakes up?” he asked, running his hand over Max's unruly curls. “He's clingy when he's sick.”

Gwen snickered. “He's clingy all the time, you idiot.” But, to ease his mind, she grabbed the kid and pulled him onto her lap.

“Thanks,” he said before disappearing into the kitchen. There was a muted clatter as he searched through his fridge for ingredients. “How do you feel about chicken? I think I have some Cajun seasonings somewhere,” he called back to her.

“Sounds good to me,” she answered, stretching over to grab the remote on the other end of the couch. As long as Max was sleeping, there was no need to leave the kids' shows on. David would definitely disapprove of her exposing his kid to MTV, even if he wasn't awake, so she lowered the volume until it was quiet enough he wouldn't be able to hear it from the kitchen and let herself get lost in reality TV drama.

***

The first thing Max was aware of when he woke up was that something felt off. He kept his eyes closed for a moment trying to figure out what it was, but it got him nowhere. He squinted his eyes open and stared at the couch for a few seconds before it clicked: it wasn't David's chest he was leaning on.

He turned his head and blinked blearily up at Gwen, face twisting into a pout. Gwen was usually fine, he liked her well enough, but who he wanted right now was David. Gwen smiled at him, but he was already looking away, scanning the room for his dad. When he didn't seem him, he started to panic. “Dad?” he cried. “Dad?!”

“He's in the kitchen,” Gwen told him, but Max wasn't listening. He was thrashing in her arms, so she tightened her hold, worried he might fall off the couch and hurt himself. His breath was starting to hitch, and tears were pooling in the corners of his eyes. Gwen bit her lip, not sure what she should do. She'd dealt with quite a few of Max's tantrums—while David was an expert at calming his kid down, Gwen usually just let him scream himself out—but this didn't seem like a typical tantrum. And she had no idea how to handle it.

David heard him yelling in the kitchen; it would have been impossible not to. “Max?” he called. “What's wrong?”

“Dad!” he whined, still struggling to get out of Gwen's hold.

“It's okay, Max. I'm right here,” he tried to soothe. It did nothing to calm Max down.

David quickly shoved the chicken into the oven so he could hurry back into the family room. Max was properly crying, tears streaming down his cheeks as stretched his arms out towards David. He sighed, walking over to Gwen and hoisting the kid up into his arms. Max immediately latched onto him, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Sorry,” Gwen said, “he just started freaking out.”

“It's alright,” he told her, rubbing Max's back to try to calm him down. He actually wasn't that surprised that Max had gotten scared when he'd woken up without him. Gwen had been right when she said he was always clingy; when he was just a baby, he'd cry every time David left his sight. Even now, he tended to follow him around the house, and even though he'd been going to the same daycare for years, he still clung onto David's leg every time he had to leave him there. David wondered if maybe there was some memory Max had of being left in that dumpster, if maybe he was still scared it would happen again.

He glanced up at Gwen, who had gotten up from the couch. She was hovering a few steps away, looking worried. “Is he okay?” she asked quietly.

David nodded. “Happens all the time.” After a few minutes, the kid started to calm down. David let his hand still on Max's back. “You okay now, monster? All better?”

Max sniffled and nodded, turning his head to tuck it under David's chin.

“Can I put you down?”

Max furiously shook his head, balling his hands into David's shirt.

“Max, I have to cook dinner. You know I can't hold you when I'm cooking.” It was an argument they had nearly every night—Max thrived on David's attention, and he was usually more than happy to provide it; the one place he drew the line, however, was Max hanging onto him in the kitchen. Max, predictably, hated this and fought it with all his might.

Max whined, a high-pitched sound that Gwen had come to associate with the beginning of a tantrum. “What if I hold you?” she suggested, reaching out to take him. David easily handed him over, despite him still clutching at his shirt. “Just until Dad's all done cooking.”

“No!” Max whined, fighting to get back to David. He was leaning so far forward in Gwen's arms that she had to readjust her grip just so he wouldn't fall.

“Please, Max?” David asked softly, resting his hand against the side of Max's head. He ran his thumb along his cheek, swiping away some of the remaining tear tracks. “For me?”

Max shook his head, grabbing hold of David's arm as if he had enough strength to hold him there. It broke David's heart to see him like this, especially when he wasn't in the position to be able to comfort him. He took a step closer, letting Max tip forward and lean against his chest.

Gwen wracked her brain for a solution, anything she could do to help. “We can all go sit in the kitchen together. That'd be okay, right?” She figured that David would probably prefer that Max stay bundled up on the couch, but there was no was he was going to cooperate with that. They needed to find some kind of compromise.

Max sniffled, but didn't reject the idea. David sighed softly, relieved that the crisis had been averted. He gave Max a quick kiss on the top of his head before looking back up at Gwen. _Thank you,_ he mouthed.

Gwen gave him a small smile and nodded in acknowledgment. She leaned back to grab one of the smaller blankets still heaped on the couch and wrapped it around Max as best she could. He squirmed uncomfortably, letting out tiny grunts of frustration as Gwen carried him into the kitchen. He didn't settle down until Gwen sat down, letting him get comfortable on her lap.

David returned to his spot at the stove, peeking into the cabinet next to him to find something for his son. “How about I make you some chicken soup?” he asked Max, already grabbing a can. Max let out a noise somewhere between a hum and a whine, leaning back against Gwen's chest. David chuckled quietly as he put a pot on the stove and set about heating up the soup for Max.

“Are you feeling any better?” Gwen asked, giving Max's back a quick rub.

“I guess,” he muttered, eyes on David.

“That's good.”

“That's great!” David cut in, smiling at him over his shoulder. “At this rate, you'll be all better by tomorrow!”

Max coughed quietly and burrowed further into the blanket, pouting as Gwen started to play with his hair. It didn't take long for the food to finish cooking, and soon David was plating everything and piling the dirty pots and pans in the sink to deal with later.

As David brought the plates over to the table, Gwen shifted Max over to his own chair so she could get up and grab the utensils. He didn't look particularly happy about it—he gave her a weak glare before being distracted by the bowl of soup David set down in front of him.

He picked up his spoon and poked at a chunk of celery floating in the broth. David watched him for a minute, but he never even tasted a spoonful. “What's wrong, Max?” he asked with a touch of concern. “Aren't you going to eat?”

“I'm not hungry,” he mumbled, turning his brilliant green eyes up to David. “Can I sit with you?”

David pressed his lips together. He'd eaten with Max on his lap before, though he'd really rather not. When he was looking at him with those big puppy-dog eyes, though, it was hard to resist. “Okay,” he said, and immediately Max was scrambling onto his lap. David reached across the table, pulling Max's bowl over and settling it next to his own plate. “But hungry or not, you have to eat something, okay?”

Max heaved a tiny sigh, but grabbed his spoon anyway. He spent most of his time at the table stirring the soup rather than eating it, but listened to his dad. He had eaten about half of the bowl by the time David and Gwen finished their dinner, and despite all of David's prodding and pleading, refused to eat any more.

“Well, it's something at least,” David muttered to Gwen, pouring the leftover soup into a tupperware. Max was curled up on the armchair in the family room, none too happy about being left alone but too sleepy to fight anyone about it.

“He did say he was feeling better.”

“And I don't doubt it; I just wish he'd eaten more.”

Gwen hummed quietly, peeking into the family room to look at Max. He was such a small boy—he seemed so vulnerable. So young, yet he'd already been through so much. She shook her head and moved back to the table to help David clean up.

Once the kitchen was all clean, she and David joined Max in the family room. David put on an old Disney movie, something to entertain both the little kid and the big kids. About halfway through, Max's eyelids started to droop. Minutes later, he was asleep.

As the credits rolled, Gwen picked her phone up off the cushion next to her and checked the time; it was a little past eight. She hummed quietly in thought, swiveling her head to the side to look out the window. The darkness outside seemed near impenetrable, and Gwen sighed. She had to go now before she was tempted to stay the night.

She shoved her phone into her pocket and stood up, stretching her arms above her head. “I should probably get going,” she said reluctantly.

David twisted around to look at the clock in the kitchen. “Oh, yeah, I didn't realize it was getting so late.” He glanced over to where Max was curled up on the armchair, sound asleep, and debated whether or not he should bring him up to bed. Of course he wasn't going to let him sleep on the armchair all night, but if he took him up now, he might wake up, and if he woke up now he'd be cranky. Better to wait a few minutes; he'd bring him up once Gwen left.

He stood up as well and started heading towards the front hall. “Thanks for coming over today, Gwen,” he said as he walked her to the door. “You really didn't have to.”

Gwen smirked. “Don't thank me just yet,” she said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small stack of papers. She held them out to him. “Homework.”

“Joy,” David deadpanned. He took the papers from her and quickly flipped through them to see what was there.

“Do you think you'll be back tomorrow?”

“I don't know,” he said with a small sigh. “His fever's gone, but he's still being so difficult. He might not let me leave him at daycare.” If Max was still as clingy in the morning as he was that night, trying to bring him to daycare would no doubt result in a tantrum of epic proportions.

Gwen hummed in understanding as she knelt down to pull on her boots. “Well, I'll grab your work for you if you need to stay home.”

He huffed out a short laugh. “Thanks.”

When she stood back up, David had grabbed her coat off the rack for her. He held it out for her and she took it, slipping it on and shaking her hair out over the hood. She pulled her hat and scarf out of the pockets, bracing herself for the freezing walk home she was facing.

She stepped out onto the front step, the light from the doorway making the inside of the house look so warm and friendly she was loath to leave. “See you Monday for sure?”

David shivered in the cold that was leeching in from the outside but kept the door open with a smile anyway. “Yeah,” he said, “see you Monday.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> So this took longer to come out than I would have liked, so sorry about that. There are still a few scenes I'm not entirely satisfied with, but at this point I kin of just needed to get it done, you know? I have started work on the next story in this series, but just barely. That one is definitely going to take a while--I just have so far to go with it, on top of my homework and all of my original writings to do--so sorry in advance for the wait. But thank you guys so much for sticking with me no matter how long my upload gaps are, and thank you for all of the love you give me. Seriously, you guys are a solid 80% of my motivation to keep writing; you don't know how much it means to me to always have you here.


End file.
